


Ghost Fragment: The Archivist

by Siffie



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Destiny - Fandom, Destiny 2 - Fandom, destiny the game
Genre: Destiny, Destiny 2, Eliksni, Gen, Grimoire Card, House of Wolves, fake grimoire, the fallen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siffie/pseuds/Siffie
Summary: A former Archivist from the House of Wolves finds a cloak in the Martian wastes.





	Ghost Fragment: The Archivist

He found a green cloak today.

Those were quite rare, especially in the desert, and especially since the bonewalkers had their little fit. He’d picked up a few transmissions from sunward, but Kings slang remained beyond understanding and he didn’t understand until he saw one of the creatures for himself. That encounter saw him lock himself away for months, until the charnel room ran dangerously low. The ghouls did something that made it safe again.

The cloak was surprisingly intact. A little threadbare around the hem, but Exile cloaks never had much in them. Whatever it held would find its place, tales of the dead and the abandoned, those who thought they could live without the strong hand of a Kell to keep them safe. The thought made him laugh. Finding an Exile this far from Mons Olympus only meant they’d lost both their homes. They should have learned they couldn’t live together anymore. All it would take was a single tungsten rod, bumped out of high orbit by the ghouls, the Cabal, anyone really, to see their warrens filled with dirt and fire. The cloak went stuffed into his sack, among the blue.

The ride home was uneventful. Kaliks-8 rumbled a low hello as the airlock sealed and he shook off his mask, taking a deep breath. Sometimes he forgot his name until the Servitor reminded him. It had a good memory. The Ether was fresher than the armor tank, but the charnel room still stunk. Maybe he could scavenge a bit of rubber to seal the door tomorrow. Trailing a hand along Kaliks’ shell as he passed, Viksis tapped a nine-digit code into the keypad to the back room, the door sliding open with a hiss. Dropping his cargo in the middle of the room, he picked up a handheld hydraulic press and shook out the Exile cloak with his main hands. Plenty of room for it on the right wall. Holding it in place, two steel rods went through the fiber and into the stone, securing it in place. He had six Exile cloaks now, almost half the wall. Behind him hung two dozen red. To the right, a few dozen sky blue. The back wall was filled floor to ceiling, three deep. He didn’t like to look at it. Surveying his work, he let himself drop to the ground, easing himself onto the stone floor with his secondary arms. He’d grown big with all the Ether to himself, a hair short of an Archon. It was a bittersweet feeling.

The back wall was filled floor to ceiling, with a dark, rich blue, three deep. He didn’t like to look at it.


End file.
